


Songbird

by jane_x80



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Music, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 15:50:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5254109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony hides a special talent and is devastated when Abby finds out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tony has a baby grand in his apartment, and he has played guitar. Michael Weatherly plays both instruments and sings (swoon). So this is my take on why we don't see more of Tony's musical abilities. You could see a possible Tibbs if you squinted, but on the whole generic. The story is complete - I'll try to post the next chapters soon. Disclaimer: I own nothing

Abby dances around her lab, bopping to her usual migraine-inducing decibel of death metal. She checks her machines and cheers when she realizes that major mass spec has come up with something useful for the case. Rather than call Gibbs, she texts Tony to tell him she has something. This is what she has been doing since the Bossman was recuperating from his tangle with Daniel Budd’s minions. Even though Gibbs is back to work he has seemed to lean more on Tony for some of these things and Abby is nothing if not tuned towards Gibbs’ behaviors.

She does not have to wait long before Tony appears, bearing a large Caf-Pow. He is dressed in sweat pants. His NCIS t-shirt is sweat stained and sticking to his lean torso and he has a small towel hanging around his neck. She realizes that it is lunch time and that lately Tony has been using that time to run on the treadmill in the NCIS gym. She knows that he prefers to run outside and probably gets a run in either in the morning or at night, but since Gibbs was shot, Tony seems to have needed more workouts and he hasn’t stopped even though Gibbs is back at work again, and Tony has personally taken care of Daniel Budd. She makes a mental note to speak to him about it – perhaps Tony is still holding on to guilt, blame and self-loathing, which is what he tends to do.

She watches him pull earbuds out of his ears as he turns down her music, flashes her his trademark mega-watt smile and gives her the customary “What do you got, Abs?”

Idly she notes that Tony looks good – lean and mean, and muscled and sweaty is a good look for him. Although any look is a good look for him, if she were to be honest with herself. But she and Tony have a long history and a rock solid friendship so even though she has indulged in fantasies of him in the past, they have never even approached that threshold for which she is glad, because that meant that she and Tony are best friends and that Tony talks to her and tells her things that nobody else knows – true things that she keeps close to her heart because these truths are precious and possibly she (and perhaps Gibbs) is the only one who knows this about her friend.

“Didn’t know you run with an iPod these days Tony?” she is genuinely curious.

“Only on the treadmill, it would get way too boring otherwise,” Tony admits, his mouth quirking up into a self-conscious grin. “I don’t use it when I run outside.”

“Why not?” Abby finds herself asking.

Insecurity flashes almost imperceptibly through Tony’s expressive green eyes, before the mask slips into place. Most people wouldn’t have even caught it, but Abby has been Tony’s friend for almost fifteen years now. “Well, I like to be aware of my surroundings when I run outside,” he admits.

Understanding floods Abby. Unlike other people, Tony isn’t just worried about muggers. As someone who has been in law enforcement as long as he has, there could be any number of criminals, ex-convicts, Mafiosi, low-lifes, and terrorists who could get the drop on him while he’s as vulnerable as when he is running. She skips over and gives him a hug.

“You need a shower, mister,” she wrinkles her nose as she wipes her hands on her lab coat.

“Sorry Abs,” he grins apologetically and unstraps the iPod from his bicep, putting it down on one of her tables as he tries to towel the sweat off of himself. “So, what do you got for me?”

Abby gives him a wicked grin. “I think you are going to like what major mass spec and I have found for you…” and she proceeds to tell him the new damning evidence for the current case that the MCRT is working on. She watches as Tony gleefully puts all the pieces together in his head and begins vibrating with excitement at the upcoming take-down. She knows that this is what Tony lives for. She loves how he can put everything together so quickly, without her having to tell him much more than the forensic discoveries – his powers of deduction have always been amazing.

He gifts her with a quick hug and a kiss on her temple before running out of the lab and running up the stairs to the bullpen. Green eyes gleaming, he tells Gibbs, McGee and Bishop who are eating their lunch what Abby has just told him and they run through the conclusions that he has come up with and agree. Then Gibbs sends him to shower and dress while McGee and Bishop locate their suspect. With any luck, they would be interrogating and breaking him down this afternoon.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It isn’t till an hour later that Abby realizes that in his rush to get to the bullpen, Tony has accidentally left his iPod at her lab. She looks at it – it is an older model and doesn’t do much more than music. Obviously Tony really only uses this for music while he runs on the treadmill (and probably only the NCIS treadmill, Abby thinks). He would probably not want to be vulnerable running on a treadmill at a commercial gym either.

She notices that his music is still playing. He must have forgotten to stop it. She doesn’t recognize the track name _“Invisible”_. Curiously, she puts the earbuds to her ears.

To her surprise, she hears Tony’s voice singing, but he is singing unlike anything she has ever heard him do at karaoke or just while hanging out or watching movies and stuff. Quickly she turns down the music in her lab.

Accompanied only by a piano, Tony’s voice, filled with sadness and pain, huskily sings, barely over a whisper but yet resonating deep in her soul.

_I know I’m not real, I must be_  
_Just a figment of somebody’s imagination_  
_A screwed up, forgotten creation_  
_An echo, a leftover reverberation_  
_I scream and cry but nobody sees me_  
_That’s how it’s always been_  
_Cause I’m invisible_

Abby finds that there is a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes, as her friend’s voice (his voice, his amazing voice, who knew he hid this voice from them all? Tony who breaks into song at the drop of a hat and is the first one in line when they go out for karaoke and can always barely carry a tune choosing to amuse with his antics than with his barely-there voice – his faked singing voice) as he sings of his loneliness and pain, and the piano echoes his heartbreak. Surely he isn’t playing the piano too? Abby wonders. And she knows, of course it’s him. He would never allow anybody to hear him. And this must be a song that he had written. It was so personal. Abby knows she should stop listening but she cannot help herself. When the song is over, she locks herself in her office guiltily, and she plays it again from the beginning. This time she lets the tears fall from her eyes.

The song is beautiful. The singing is beautiful and soulful. The piano accompaniment is haunting. She cannot believe that Tony has hidden this from her! She is so going to punch him when she sees him next.

Then the next song begins. It’s Tony singing again. It is a fun quirky song, this time with guitar accompaniment, and before long she realizes that this song is about her. She looks at the track name _“Spider Web Tattoo”_ and smiles. Some of the words make her laugh. Tony is a natural wordsmith and the lyrics to her song (he wrote a song about her!) are playful, clever and contain a biting wit. This song has managed to capture who she is. She doesn’t know how Tony has translated her from a real person into this amazing song.

And his voice! In this song (her song!), she forgot the quiet, unendurable pain that he made her feel in the previous song. She feels hopeful and happy, and it is because this is how he sounds singing it. She cannot help but play this track again too, hugging the song around her like it is the greatest gift she has ever received.

As the next track begins, and Tony begins singing some more, she realizes there may be many more songs that Tony wrote on his iPod. She knows he might come back to look for it and she cannot be caught listening to this. So she copies everything to her machine and puts Tony’s iPod in her purse so she will remember to give it back to him.

The rest of the afternoon she spends listening to the thirty or so original songs that she finds scattered throughout Tony’s playlists and she cannot believe her ears. Tony is one of the most talented singer-songwriters that she has ever known, and utilizes all genres in his music. His lyrics are deeply personal – sad songs about his mother, Ziva, Kate, Jeanne, Paula, Jenny, being at sea (his agent afloat period). Angry songs about his father, death and violence, terrorism, Ziva, bourbon, boat-making. Heartbreaking songs about pain and loneliness, his childhood, hopelessness. There were love songs, even one that strangely included basements, bourbon and boat-making. Upbeat tunes about coffee, bourbon, boat-making, Abby, little amusing things that catch his eye. Songs about sex (Abby wonders who these are for as the words do not give her any clues, but his words caress her almost physically and she feels it all the way down there and shudders, wondering what it would be like if they ever got together, those fantasies that she has long since given up flying back into her head). His voice is a master class in painting emotions – he really knows how to use it, to whisper heartwrenchingly, to lilt merrily, to growl angrily, to belt strikingly, to moan sexually (heat rises to Abby’s cheeks as she replays his sex songs). He has put all the emotions that he hides from the world into these songs.

Abby feels like a criminal for listening to these songs but she cannot help herself. She also knows she cannot tell another soul and wonders if Tony will ever speak to her again when she owns up to having completely violated his privacy. Even though it was an accident. Kind of.

She begins worrying about what she is going to do about this. She can’t tell Burt (her boyfriend) of course, as he is a little jealous of her relationship with Tony, so Abby begins muttering under her breath to Bert (her farting hippo), hoping he will give her some insight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby confesses what she's done and Tony does not react well.

At 19:00, Tony finds himself sitting at the piano bar alone, having looked around and not seen Abby. After mulling things over, he decides on a local microbrew IPA on tap. One beer with Abby, and perhaps at dinner he can have half a glass of wine so he can go back to work afterwards clear-headed. He has a ton of paperwork to complete, after a thoroughly satisfying afternoon of nabbing the bad guy, breaking him in interrogation (Gibbs has been letting him do most of the interrogations lately, while he watches from Observation) and closing the case. This is why he cannot fathom giving up what he does. Helping justice rule the day is what he lives for.

He laughs at himself for his serious thoughts and looks around the bar. The pianist is halfway decent, playing something jazzy.

The bartender comes over bringing another glass of beer, even though he has barely sipped his drink. Tony quirks a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Lady over there wanted me to give you this with her compliments,” the bartender tells him, pointing to a table behind him.

Tony turns to see two women at a table, and one of them (an amazingly attractive brunette in her thirties) raises a glass at him and smiles invitingly.

Tony gifts her with a wide lazy smile and notices that both the brunette and her friend smile back dazedly. He pulls out a pen and writes “Tony” and his number on a napkin and hands it to the bartender. “Can you tell her I can’t accept her drink cause it’s a school night and I can only have one beer tonight, but she can call me sometime if she likes and we can have a drink then?” he folds the napkin and deftly slips it to the bartender along with a generous tip for his trouble.

The bartender grins at him, taking the untouched beer and the message to her table. He comes back with two folded napkins for Tony. On one is “Marie” and her phone number. And the other is “Sophie” and her number. Sophie has dotted the i with a heart. He is glad neither has placed a SWAK on the napkins as that no longer holds any appeal to him (flashes of blue lights and feeling of drowning in his own bed goes through his head). Tony quirks an eyebrow at them and the brunette points to herself and mouths “Sophie” and points to her red-headed but also attractive friend and mouths “Marie”. Tony’s smile widens and he nods at them, pointedly placing the napkins in the inside pocket of his immaculately tailored Ermenegildo Zegna suit jacket. He is amazed when they giggle (and is silently proud that even at his age, he can still reduce women to tittering teenagers with just a smile).

He sees that they have spotted the badge clipped to his belt and have started whispering to each other. He wonders what they would say if they saw that he was wearing his Sig in the comfortable old battered shoulder holster under the jacket. He has been told it is a sexy look. He winks at them and goes back to scanning the room, looking for any sign of Abby who is running rather late.

Before long, a handsome man dressed in a conservative but expensive suit asks if the seat next to him is taken, even though there are plenty of open seats at the bar. The man is in his thirties, with melting brown eyes, square jaw and a deeply cleft chin, and looks to be in good physical shape. Tony sees that the man is undressing him with his eyes, and he looks him up and down in return in a lazy appraisal. Tony appreciates beauty in all forms and all genders.

He smiles and tells his admirer that he is waiting for a friend tonight.

“Mind if I wait with you?” the man’s voice is husky.

Tony smiles but politely declines as he knows Abby wanted to talk to him about something and had sounded serious tonight. He is apologetic but doesn’t crush the man – those melting brown eyes were adorable after all. Brown-eyes moves away but only after another folded napkin has been pressed into Tony’s hand and Tony graces him with an apologetic smile. Tony glances at it “Henry” and a phone number. He also places it in his inside jacket pocket – it’s a toss up as to which of the three numbers he might call. Maybe one, maybe none, maybe all. It would all depend on how the week went.

He notices that Sophie is still staring at him and he grins at her. Then he sips his drink and scans the bar again. And sees Abby!

Abby clomps over in her platform heeled boots, wearing a black cape over a pink baby T with a skull on it, barely there black mini skirt and black tights, her hair in two braids tonight. They hug and he tweaks one of her pigtails playfully as he notices that she looks upset.

“What’s wrong?” he is immediately concerned.

Abby takes a deep breath, and Tony hugs her again to calm her down as he gestures to the bartender. Abby orders a martini and Tony is so concerned that he doesn’t even quote any James Bond movies or does his Sean Connery impression. Abby is the one who seems to be shaken and stirred tonight.

Abby takes a deep breath and holds his hands in hers, but she refuses to meet his eyes.

“Abby?” he prods gently. “Is everything OK?”

Abby seems to be trying to gather her thoughts. Slightly panicked, Tony glances at his phone in case he has missed a call (Rule 3) and/or any bad news about his teammates. Abby catches that look and tells him that everybody’s fine and that that’s not it.

The bartender brings her her drink and Abby drains it.

Although Tony is no longer worried about the rest of his team, he is now quite alarmed at what Abby is going through. “What is it Abs? You can tell me. I’ll help make it all better for you, OK?” he is unbelievably gentle.

Abby looks up at him, full of guilt and her eyes tearing up. She pulls his iPod out of her purse and gives it to him.

“You left this at my lab today,” she tells him.

He smiles and thanks her for giving it back. “But what’s so bad that you’re drinking a martini and crying about an iPod, Abs?”

“Please, please don’t hate me,” she whispers. “I did a bad, bad thing. It started out as an accident but now it’s just a bad, bad, bad thing and I don’t want to lose you.”

“What are you talking about Abby?” Tony is genuinely puzzled. “You couldn’t do anything to lose me.”

“I’d ask you to pinky swear, but I don’t think I’d hold you to it this time, Tony,” Abby’s eyes start to leak. She takes a deep breath and just blurts it out. “Your iPod was still playing when I spotted it like an hour after you left, and I just idly wondered what you were listening to.”

“And?” Tony hasn’t caught on yet.

“I heard _you_ singing on it,” Abby confesses.

Tony is taken aback. He had forgotten that he had put his songs on the iPod.

“Umm, so which song did you hear?” he finally asks hesitantly.

“All of them,” Abby whispers, finally meeting his eyes.

Tony visibly pales. “All of them?” he whispers harshly.

Abby nods wordlessly.

Tony’s heart is pounding in his chest and he knows he is in danger of hyperventilating if he doesn’t get his breathing under control. His fingers tremble as he takes a big swallow of his beer. Abby watches as he fiercely wrestles a mask into place and covers up the raw pain and fear and anger that had previously been in his eyes and his voice.

“Please, don’t shut me out completely Tony,” she pleads softly.

Tony sips his beer, grimly satisfied in seeing that his fingers have stopped trembling. “Well, I guess it’s a bit late for that now, right?” he tries to inject some levity into his tone, but he knows it is coming off brittle with a generous helping of bitter.

“I am so, so, so sorry for violating your privacy,” Abby whispers brokenly. “I knew how awful I was and that I should have stopped when I heard the first song…”

Tony nods and looks down.

Abby tentatively touches his chin and waits for his emerald eyes to meet hers. “But Tony, your song was so beautiful. It was captivating. And then your next song came on and I just couldn’t stop. Your songs are amazing. You are amazing. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. You’ve hidden this from us all these years, Tony.”

Tony closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I know I am the most awful person in the world and that you can never forgive me for this,” Abby continues. “But I couldn’t just not tell you that I heard your songs. And I heard you singing. And playing. Tony…”

“Abby, I think I need some air right now,” Tony manages to tell her. He throws some money on the bar.

“Are you still coming out to dinner with us after this?” she asks in a small voice.

“Tell everyone rain check tonight, OK?” he tells her. He gives her a brief hard hug. “I just need some time to process this.” He knows she will make his excuses without telling the team anything about this. She knows that that would be completely inexcusable. He knows she is upset but he cannot stay to comfort her this time.

“Will you be able to forgive me eventually Tony?” Abby’s teary eyes and husky voice make him wince.

“Give me time and it’ll be OK, OK?” he finally tells her and presses a kiss to her temple. He finishes his drink in one quick swallow, slips the offending iPod into his pocket, squeezes Abby’s hand gently and slips away, completely unaware that Sophie, Marie and Henry have all kept their eyes on him the entire time.

Tony gets in his car and drives back to work. It is the safest place for him to be right now. He changes into his running gear and begins running, pushing himself to run faster and harder, his feet pounding the treadmill hard. And now he can’t even listen to the iPod while he runs. After a half hour, he slows and stops and wraps his hands before attacking the heavy punching bag. He knows that he should not be so angry, but the songs are Anthony’s and have no masks or filters. The songs are how he copes, his outlet from his crazy messed up life. It is how he has always coped – he started writing songs when he was a child, alone and hurt. The songs on the iPod are the ones that are most special to him and he cannot believe that someone has listened to all of them, and heard him, and now knows his deepest most pain-filled secrets and fears.

He feels like his entire life has been laid bare and he can do nothing about it. He feels like he is a mass of exposed nerve endings, quivering and hurting. He feels like he has lost all control and cannot get it back.

He feels.

He feels everything.

And Tony likes to compartmentalize his feelings and make them manageable. Abby has ripped his feelings out of their compartments and he is frantically, desperately, trying to smoosh them back in and slam the door on them. He takes out his anger and betrayal on the heavy bag, but instead of calming him down, it only seems to magnify his feelings.

Finally he realizes that someone is holding the bag. He hears harsh breathing and panting and realizes that he is making those noises. Behind the bag, holding firm, is Gibbs.

“Boss?” he rasps out, wondering how long Gibbs has been holding the bag.

“You with me DiNozzo?” Gibbs asks. He looks worried. Tony wonders if he’s tried to get his attention before.

“Yeah Boss,” Tony answers, and puts his fists down, and tries to slow his heart rate.

“What’s going on with you and Abby?” Gibbs is blunt and direct.

“Nothing,” Tony turns away from the scrutiny and begins unwrapping his hands, realizing that even though wrapped, they are bruised and bleeding from the punishment. He flexes his fingers carefully, unable to hide the slight wince of pain.

“Wanna try that again?” a note of steel is laced through the question.

“I can’t talk about it right now,” Tony says, raising tormented green eyes to Gibbs’ icy blue gaze.

Gibbs looks at his Senior Field Agent, and sees something that makes him nod his head. “Abby’s upset too but she says it’s her fault.”

“Did she say anything else?” Tony asks, afraid of the answer.

Gibbs shakes his head. “She says it’s between the two of you.”

Tony swallows and nods, suddenly deflated.

“Go shower and meet me at my house for cowboy steaks,” Gibbs tells him gently. “Plan to stay over.”

Tony gives himself a mental shake. “I haven’t finished the paperwork for the case yet, Boss.”

“You can do it tomorrow,” Gibbs is still gentle. “Do you need Ducky to look at your hands?”

Exhaustion washes over Tony, and now his hands hurt and his head begins to pound. He shakes his head in denial. “They’re fine.”

“Go on now,” Gibbs tells him.

“On it Boss,” came the quiet response. Secretly, Tony is glad. Gibbs will feed him and help him put himself back together and he will be able to face the world again in the morning. His traitorous brain begins composing lyrics for this betrayal and subsequent rebirth, and he cannot help as his fingers tap out a melody in the piano in his head. This is what he has always done. 

He takes a long, hot shower and fiercely denies the tears that threaten to fall (DiNozzos don’t cry, after all). Then he dresses and takes the stairwell to the parking lot, refusing to go to the bullpen in case McGee or Bishop are there. It is unlikely that they would be, but they could be unpredictable sometimes.

He drives to Gibbs’ house, grabs his gear, and gratefully walks through the door. He knows that his apartment is his sanctuary, but Gibbs’ house is also a sanctuary and tonight it would be good for him to let Gibbs take care of him. Just for the night.


	3. Chapter 3

For the next work week, Tony comes to work in extravagantly expensive new suits, and is uncharacteristically quiet. He doesn’t tease his teammates, nor does he make any movie references. There is a glaring dearth of spitballs, crumpled up paper balls, rubber bands, or projectiles of any sort. At crime scenes, Tony moves silently, photographing or sketching, or bagging and tagging, speaking only when necessary and only about the case. When he conducts interviews, he is thorough and empathetic, always getting what he needs, but the DiNozzo easy charm and general merriment is absent. McGee finds driving to the crime scenes excruciating, as Tony drives silently, keeping his eyes on the road and ignoring any attempts at conversation. In the bullpen, he sits quietly at his desk and completes his work. McGee and Bishop do not know why Tony is behaving so un-Tony like and have been spending time in the men’s room trying to hash out what could have happened. They wish they could bring the plasma in there with them to help them in their analysis, but have to make do with pictures, props, graphs and charts on their phones. Gibbs glares at them every time they try to speak to Tony, to ask him what is going on, which stops them from questioning him.

Gibbs realizes that when Tony is in his black mood, not only is his own team affected but it seems like the entire floor is tip-toeing around. He can’t help but wonder if they are waiting for him to scream at Tony, or if they are afraid that Tony will focus all his pent up rage at them and destroy them with his arsenal of words and insider knowledge if they look at him even slightly cross-eyed. He would like to think the former, but he cannot help but think they must have a healthy fear of the latter. They can probably also plainly see that Gibbs is standing shoulder to shoulder with his agent like he is a wounded cub who needs to be protected and doubtless would prefer not to incur the wrath of either or both men. But stories about Tony have also gained an almost fantastic quality around the water cooler.

Tony might not know it, but he has gained a reputation for himself – in the beginning just by lasting longer than a few months on Gibbs’ team, but then to have served as his Senior Field Agent for all these years turning down promotion after promotion, and to have successfully (some might even say brilliantly) lead his team during Gibbs’ months-long absences a few times, not to mention all the larger than life things that seem to happen to Tony (pneumonic plague, kidnappings, beatings, undercover ops that go haywire, betrayals by Directors and SecNavs, rescuing Ziva from Somalia, tricking Eli David while being interrogated, hunting down and killing Daniel Budd, etc.) from which he seems to bounce back seemingly without being affected only seem to add to the myth of Anthony DiNozzo.

Whatever the reason, agents and staff of NCIS, Director Vance included, have been unfailingly polite and have chosen their words carefully when addressing the scarily silent un-Tony while he continues to struggle with his inner demons.

For his part, Tony avoids the lab and Abby, and Gibbs cooperates by sending McGee or Bishop down instead of Tony.

In the evenings, Tony unwinds by sparring with Gibbs at the NCIS gym, running, and then eating dinner with Gibbs, either at Gibbs’ house or at his apartment. Tony is glad for the company, although he remains quiet. He seems to only be able to stomach Gibbs’ presence, but not anybody else’s. Gibbs continues to show his support by his continued presence, letting Tony draw strength from him as needed.

Tony hasn’t told Gibbs what happened, but he knows that his agent is shaken and needs time to recover. Gibbs is ready to give Tony as much time as he needs, and this is what he has told Abby repeatedly. He has warned her not to confront Tony, not even to come up to the bullpen and to give him some space. It is the longest few days of Abby’s life. Although the team was supposed to be on-call that weekend, Gibbs decides to speak to Vance to give the team the weekend off. Vance readily agrees, thinking if anything, he himself needed time at work without Tony’s dark cloud enshrouding the whole office.

Tony spends the weekend writing a new song and playing sad songs on the piano. His new song is mostly about how much he wants his outside to match the scarred, ugliness that is his inside. He decides never to let anybody hear this song as it ends up being so filled with angst that it could have been written by a hormonal teenager. He spends the rest of the time writing a song making fun of himself as a hormonal teenaged singer-songwriter and thinks that he might like Abby to hear the new songs.

And that surprises him. And cheers him up. On Sunday night, he buys a bottle of bourbon and spends the night helping Gibbs build the boat, but instead of wallowing in silence, he chatters about everything and nothing as if the past week never happened. Gibbs doesn’t know quite what happened but he is happy that Tony has turned the corner and dragged himself out of his own head and is talking and smiling again.

When he sends Tony off to bed in the guest room (they have both had far too much bourbon for either of them to drive), Tony grins at him and thanks him sincerely for being there for him. Then he pads away to bed, leaving Gibbs with a lump in his throat and tears stinging his eyes.

Tony’s back. Everything is right in the world again.

The next morning, he makes pancakes for breakfast (Tony’s favorite) and even throws in eggs and bacon for good measure when he hears Tony singing while he showers, a sure sign that Tony is not in a bad mood. He can’t believe how relieved he is to hear his agent’s voice again and how much he has missed Tony’s shenanigans. When Tony comes downstairs dressed in dark slacks and a button down shirt (his casual outfit still probably cost a week’s salary, but yay no suit!), Gibbs almost starts cheering out loud. The armor is gone. Today will be a good day.

Tony quirks an eyebrow at the breakfast spread. “Hey boss, did I do something good? What’s with the number one breakfast today?”

Gibbs shrugs and grins as he hands him a mug of coffee and a plate piled with food.

“Thanks boss,” Tony decides to let it slide. He eats with good appetite, clears his plate and helps Gibbs clean up before they go to work.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When McGee and Bishop arrive, they find a cup of coffee and donuts waiting on their desks but although they see that Tony’s jacket and backpack are at his desk, he is nowhere to be seen. Gibbs is nursing his own cup of coffee and munching on a donut. They realize that Tony has left them peace offerings. Tim happily begins picking the sprinkles off his donut.

Tony is standing outside Abby’s lab and watching her. Her music is muted, and he can tell that her energy level is very low. He walks into the lab and clears his throat.

Abby turns to look at him, eyes wide, hands to her black-lipsticked mouth.

“Hey Abs,” he says to her.

“Hey Tony,” she says, her voice small.

“What you did hurt me,” he says quietly.

“I know,” she says, hanging her head. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“OK,” he says. “I’m OK now.”

Abby’s head pops up. “Do you forgive me, Tony?” she asks, impossibly hopeful.

Tony sighs. “I forgive you Abby,” it comes out as a whisper.

Abby approaches him warily, as if he were a caged panther. “Do you really?” she asks carefully, “Or are you just saying this because you’re hiding everything and don’t ever want to talk about this anymore, and just want things to go back to normal?”

He narrows his eyes at her, and his mouth quirks up into a grin. “Both?” he says.

“Don’t deflect,” Abby is insistent. “I really am sorry, what I did was unforgivable.”

“Yes it was forgivable,” Tony says. “I forgive you. I’ll pinky swear to it.” He holds out a pinky.

They twine pinkies and Tony pulls her in and hugs her. “I’m sorry I was so mean to you and held on to my anger for so long.”

“I’m sorry I was a nosy parker and didn’t respect your boundaries.”

Abby puts her arms around him, holding him tightly and tucks her face into his neck. “I’m so glad you’re back, Tony.”

“I missed you too, Abs,” he tells her, tightening his hold on her. They stand there hugging for a few moments.

After they pull apart, Abby, ever the scientist cannot let it go. “What made you decide to forgive me? And please tell me you and I, at least, can talk about your music in private? It’s not a closed book to me again, is it?”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Abby…”

“You’re right, I’m sorry – I’ll stop now,” Abby backs off.

Tony draws in a deep breath and lets it out in a huff. “We can talk about it,” he says softly, “but this is only between you and me. And what made me forgive you is that I wrote a couple of songs over the weekend and it occurred to me that you might like to hear them too. And I kind of wanted you to hear them.”

Abby breaks into a smile. “Now we’re talking, mister!” she tucks her arm through his. “Wanna do lunch today?”


	4. Chapter 4

Months later, the team is at a fancy karaoke bar, one where a pianist and/or a guitarist accompanies the singers rather than an impersonal karaoke machine. They have just finished a huge case involving serial mutilation and murder. It had been a challenging and difficult case, and they all need to let off steam. Even Gibbs is at the bar, although he insists he won’t be singing.

Unlike all the other times the team has been out to karaoke, Tony is reluctant to sing. Normally he is the first one on stage, hamming it up and being silly. Tonight, Abby sits next to him, holding his hand and whispering intensely to him. He keeps shaking his head.

“What’s going on?” Bishop wants to know. “Tony, you’re going first, right?” Even Bishop, the newest member of the team, the one who knows them least of all, knows the drill.

Tony declines, so Bishop and her husband Jake (who has joined them for their evening festivities) decide they will sing a duet. They passably sing _Endless Love_ , and the team gives them loud and enthusiastic applause and alcohol flows freely.

McGee is a little tipsy when he sings the Beatles’ _Let It Be_ , and Tony stands and whistles and whoops at his partner when it’s over. Tony still keeps telling Abby no, though.

Ducky and Palmer sing the _Major General’s song_ from the Pirates of Penzance, which makes everybody laugh and stamp their feet and cheer uproariously.

Abby uses her husky voice well singing _Black Velvet_ by Alannah Myles.

Gibbs steadfastly refuses to sing and Tony’s ears are turning pink. McGee and Bishop are teasing him mercilessly for his uncharacteristic behavior. He should have been on stage twice now by their count. Abby’s eyes are wide and pleading.

“You don’t have to sing one of your own songs,” she whispers in his ear. “But you have to sing something real. Like how you sing your songs. Sing please. For me. Pleeeeeeease.”

Tony sighs. Finally, he nods at her. Nobody can resist Abby when she turns the begging on full force. He shrugs his jacket off and slings it on the back of his chair.

“Sing for real, Tony,” she calls out to him as he makes his way on stage.

He tiredly throws her the finger without looking back. His badge gleams on his belt and his service weapon is holstered sexily on his hip as he gracefully hops on stage, rolling up his sleeves, and she laughs and laughs, excitedly clapping. The rest of the team is unsure what to make of this. But Abby is excited that Tony is going to sing for real. Months after their fight, she has still never heard him sing, really sing, live. He has shared his songs with her but always a recorded version. He does not share live performances with her. That is still something he keeps to himself. And he never stays to listen to his recordings with her. She only listens to them alone.

He surprises his team by asking the guitarist if he can borrow the guitar. He will accompany himself. He perches on the stool by the mike and carefully strums a few experimental chords, keeping his head down. The tips of his ears are again pink when he looks up at the room.

McGee, Bishop, Palmer, Ducky, Jake and even Gibbs are looking perplexed. Tony doesn’t do embarrassed in public. Tony should be strutting his stuff and singing like a maniac, playing air guitar, dancing in parody of 80s rock stars, and making funny faces. Not just sitting on a stool and shyly holding a guitar. Could he even play the guitar? Abby has her hands clasped together, nodding at him encouragingly.

Tony clears his throat and the mike amplifies this sound. In his shirt sleeves, with a couple of his top buttons undone, his eyes are mesmerizing green pools, his full lips screaming his vulnerability, and the strong lines of his face are handsome, chiseled as if in granite. He is magnetic. It seems to Abby as if there is a collective appreciative sigh in the bar, as everyone looks at Tony expectantly. And in that moment, Tony is heartbreakingly beautiful in the spotlight.

“This is called _Lost and Found_ , by Kasey Chambers,” he says quietly into the mike. “This is for you Abby.”

Then he closes his brilliant eyes (another soft sigh this time of disappointment goes through the club when he deprives them of his beautiful, expressive eyes), strums a chord and begins singing and playing.

_If I could learn how to fly_  
_My feet would never touch the ground_  
_I'd never have to say goodbye_  
_I wouldn't have to make a sound_  
_I could throw away this heart_  
_Leave it in the lost and found_  
_If I could fly high_  
_I'd never come down_

Tony’s voice is haunting. He manages to sound breathy and sexy and indescribably sad at the same time. The bar falls silent, completely under the intoxicating spell that is Tony’s performance. Tony sings, fingers busily strumming and plucking the strings of the guitar, his chord changes smooth and practiced. His sad eyes are now open, looking around the room and seeking the faces of those that he loves so dearly.

_If I could sail across the sea_  
_I would head towards the sun_  
_I would never have to be_  
_Anything to anyone_  
_I could chase your memory_  
_And then I'd never have to run_  
_If I could sail away_  
_I'd never come home_

_But I am still here_  
_There's nowhere else to go_  
_Yeah, I am still here_  
_There's no one else to hold_  
_And I can't fly, I’m not that strong_  
_Yeah, I am still here_  
_And you're still gone_

Tony deftly slips into the guitar solo and the pianist jumps in and accompanies him, harmonizing softly in the background. Tony acknowledges the pianist with a sideways nod and an almost-grin as they flip the tune and accompaniment around, almost as if they have been practicing this song together for years. He continues singing.

_If I could fall into your arms_  
_And promise never to let go_  
_Would you keep me safe from harm?_  
_And take me everywhere you go_  
_We could throw away the past_  
_Then you'd never have to know_  
_If I could hold your heart_  
_I'd never let go_

_But I am still here_  
_There's nowhere else to go_  
_And I am still here_  
_There's no one else to hold_  
_And I can't fly, I’m not that strong_  
_Yeah, I am still here_  
_And you're still gone_  
_As I am still here_  
_And you're still gone_

You could hear a pin drop when Tony finishes. Abby and Bishop both have tears streaming down their faces and Jake doesn’t understand what is going on. Wasn’t Tony supposed to be the class clown? Ducky, Palmer and McGee look as if they could topple over at the slightest breeze. Gibbs has the biggest, most out of character smile on his face. Gibbs stands up and begins clapping his hands loudly and wolf-whistling. The entire bar erupts in thunderous applause.

Tony smiles shyly at the crowd, waving a hand awkwardly, almost dismissively. He hands the guitar back to the amazed guitarist, shakes the pianist’s hand and practically flees off the stage. He doesn’t even take a bow which is completely unlike him. His cheeks are flushed and his fingers are trembling slightly. His teammates keep hugging him, smacking his back, and just looking at him disbelievingly, as if he has grown an extra head. Abby cries into his shirt and both he and McGee have to work together to comfort her. Bishop puts a hand on his cheek and smiles at him, not really knowing what to say but she is completely and utterly moved by his performance. Jake is touched, confused, and a little bit jealous of his wife’s closeness with her strange teammates. Palmer tries to explain to Jake that this is the first time they have all heard Tony really sing.

McGee keeps saying how he can’t believe that Tony can actually sing and he’s only finding out about this all these years later. Tony teases him about being more attentive, after all he’s supposed to be a trained investigator.

Abby just cries and cries about how beautiful Tony’s song was. Finally Tony shrugs everybody off, buys a round of drinks and tells his teammates to shut the hell up. All the attention is making him self-conscious and he retreats into the comfortable mask of the idiot joker. Eventually he finds himself sitting next to Gibbs who is nursing a bourbon (surprise!).

“Didn’t realize you were such a songbird, DiNozzo,” Gibbs tells him, his voice filled with pride.

Tony smiles his trademark smile. “Nobody ever asked, Boss.” Gibbs’ pride is shining through and he knows that that is for him, and he soaks it up like a sponge.

“Is this why you and Abby were fighting that time? She learn this about you and she wasn’t supposed to know?”

Tony shrugs. Gibbs has always been perceptive. “Yeah,” he breathes softly. “But I got over it. Eventually.”

“The song obviously pre-dates your agent afloat time though, huh?” Gibbs teases.

Tony blushes. “Yeah. No more sailing across the sea for me, Boss. And definitely not without you guys.”

“Songbird,” Gibbs tells him. “Your next undercover op, that’s going to be your call sign.”

Tony laughs, a sharp bark of genuine laughter. “Whatever you say, Boss,” he tells him.

Gibbs puts an arm around his shoulders and squeezes, and gently rubs the back of his neck. “You did good, DiNozzo.”

The team sings more songs although Tony refuses to get back up on stage. He is content to observe and amazingly, he realizes that he is actually happy.

Also, he has collected the phone numbers of at least eight super-hot women, six moderately hot women, a couple of twenty-something college co-eds (they must have daddy issues, he thinks), both the burly handsome bartender and the buxom waitress, and three super-hot men. And he holds Gibbs’ praise, quietly given, close to his heart. It was a win-win situation for the songbird’s swan song.


End file.
